


just promise me we'll be alright

by WashiEaglewings



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, F/M, Isa gets speaking lines, Miscommunication, Outdoor Sex, Smut, TENDER AF sex, Terraqua Day 2019, They're! Trying!, not-first time sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 09:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18568255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WashiEaglewings/pseuds/WashiEaglewings
Summary: It's not happily ever after just yet.





	just promise me we'll be alright

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this a Final Mix of one of my older Terra/Aqua pieces, [_hold me still (bury my heart next to yours)_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360116). It's twice as long, has more intimate scenes, and is KH3 C A N O N YEEHAW.

He’s still learning to wake up to text messages.

It’s just a small ding and a buzz on the bedside table, but every small noise wakes him these days. There’s a moment where he forgets what phones are, what bodies are supposed to do in those first few minutes of waking, as he flounders in the bedsheets. Finally his hand grabs the brick and _oh_ , it hits him. Sleepy-eyed, he looks down at his phone.

_New message from Ven!_

He fumbles for the messenger app, tapping it multiple times. There’s always those first few moments when he forgets what bodies are supposed to function. “Turn on,” he mutters, tapping decisively.

 

**Ven**

Good morning!

 

He’s taken to texting fast; more often than not Terra will see him curled over his phone, laughing at messages he never lets Terra or Aqua see. There’s something comforting about knowing his friends are just a few finger flicks away, but… Ven is right down the hall. He could just knock.

Solid warm presses against his ankles as Aqua shifts in the bed beside him. Terra chuckles.

 

**Terra**

morning

well be down in a minute

 

He’s still blissfully sore when he pushes himself off the bed, careful not to disturb Aqua sleeping on the other side. Cool spring sunlight dribbles through the windows they’d thrown open last night. He’s freezing by the time he puts on pants and a sleep shirt and only half-awake when he makes it to the door, bending down to pick up the piece of paper. It’s surprisingly warm; Ven must have just slid it underneath.

“Silence tome,” Terra mutters. The spell to mute enemies?

The step-by-step is half-familiar, from days long gone of staring out the windows to the courtyard during Master Eraqus’s lessons. But underneath is another message in tilted writing. He recognizes it as Ven’s immediately—he’d proofread enough essays for the Master when Ven had been going over his basic Magic training. “‘Thought you might need a reminder,’” Terra reads aloud, “‘if you aren’t going to close the…’ what?”

He turns around to the open window, then blinks, then looks back down to the letter.

“Oh, _fuck_.”

He hears Aqua shifting on the bed and turns, wincing, as she stretches. “What’s wrong?” she asks, the question morphing into a loud yawn. It’d be cute if he didn’t feel like he was about to vanish on the spot.

“Nothing!”

“...why is your face so red?”

Terra closes the windows decisively before falling onto the edge of the bed, his back turned away from her. “Sleep well?”

“Don’t change the subject,” she says, leaning forward. It’s scary how alert she looks, ten seconds out from a dead sleep. “What’re you hiding?”

“Ven left us… something. You don’t want to read it.”

That’s mistake number one: her brow immediately quirks in a silent challenge, then sighs and hands over the letter. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

It takes her longer to read and understand in full; when she does it’s with a loud groan and a dramatic face-down flop back onto her pillows. “I thought I _did_ cast Silence.”

“I didn’t hear you.” He leans forward.

“You didn’t hear anything with all of your—things that _Ven overheard_.”

“Right.” He blanches. “Should’ve closed the door.”

“ _You_ could have cast Silence.”

“I’m awful with magic like that. I’m more a… let my body talk, kind of person.”

Aqua stares at him, eyes wide. “Well. I won’t argue with that.”

He smirks.

It wasn’t like they’d been doing this long, or often; it’s been almost two months since Xehanort had fallen, of trying to get back on their feet and learning their places in the world again. Two months of dancing around the last eleven years of darkness. And then there were the years before any talk of exams, when they’d been small and growing and _wondering._ It had been an otherwise ordinary morning when it had happened, just a questioning kiss to the side of Aqua’s mouth and curious fingers down Terra’s side, and then it had kept happening and they… hadn’t stopped.

“You’re still okay with… this?” he says, gesturing to the bed and Aqua buried underneath his covers.

He doesn’t realize there’s a knot in his throat until it loosens with her nod. She reaches out to thread their fingers together. “You?”

Terra squeezes back.

“Should probably get breakfast started,” Aqua says. “Pancakes with extra syrup, I think.”

Ven’s favorite meal. “We still have chocolate chips?”

“I don’t know. We definitely have blueberries.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “Is it okay if I…?”

“If you…?”

He leans forward so their noses touch. Terra feels her chuckling more than he hears it, the rumbling in her throat replaced by soft lips on his own. “You don’t have to ask,” she whispers.

It doesn’t stop being strange, touching her like this. Watching her patter around his room, putting on sleep clothes she keeps in his drawer. Knowing that she doesn’t sleep in her bedroom anymore, and not just because it faces away from the well-lit courtyard and the moon.

His phone buzzes again. He half expects it to be a message from Ven, asking them to hurry up. Then he looks down, starts reading. “Hey, Aqua.”

“Mhm?” she asks, pulling an oversized gray sweater over her shoulders.

“You ready for a mission?”

+

As long as there was darkness, there would be Heartless. New connections had been built between the worlds in the aftermath of Kingdom Hearts’ reappearance, and with those new connections had come new opportunities for Heartless to invade. Reports were few and far between for now, but it made for good training.

Not like they have any sort of mind for training right now, even after the Heartless ambush them.

“What would we even do?” she asks as she casts Thundaga—lightning illuminates the chunks of Meteor that rain from overhead, each blast taking a Neoshadow with it. Red Nocturnes spin into flames and rush them; she cartwheels out of the range of one and throws her Barrier up to protect against the second. One slice of Stormfall smites the foe in a flurry of flames, and she winces as embers brush against her face. Nothing a simple Cure won’t fix.

Two Earth Cores fall to slumber at Terra’s feet, helpless against the confident strikes of Ends of the Earth into their bodies. “It’s not like I know—”

“Behind you!” she shouts, casting Aeroga on two lunging Neoshadows.

“—what people do on dates!” he says as the wind picks up and tosses the bodies into the river. A second strike of Thundaga eliminates them.

She pants, looking around her. The flowered clearing is empty save for them and the smoldering embers leftover from their battle. She waits a few moments for any stragglers, then turns to Terra. “Well, where would you like to go?”

“I don’t even know what’s out there to do,” he says, leaning against a broken pillar. They’re everywhere in this world. “I’ve only ever been to the Coliseum here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of fighting in the arena.”

“Of course not,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He has a new cut on his cheek, angry and red. She walks over to him and whispers a cure spell, watches the green of it temper the wound. Her finger lingers on his brown skin. “I think you’d be able to knock me out in ten seconds.”

“Five,” she amends.

He chuckles. “Yeah.”

The Gummiphone on her hip starts buzzing. She fishes it out of her pocket and looks down, pausing for a moment before she answers. “Hi, Roxas.”

“Hey,” he says. “What’s your status?”

“We just cleared the lower half of the mountain trail,” she says, taking another look around. It’d be a peaceful place for a picnic now, with the river rumbling to their right and late afternoon sunlight flooding the rocks with warmth. “What about you?”

“Nothing wrong here. Guess it was just those two small outbreaks. We checked the heart of the world and nothing seems off, so we’re going to head back.” Someone giggles beside him, cheery and bright. “Xion, we’re not getting that.”

“It’s a golden _Phil_ , it’s  _cute!_ ”

“The golden Herc is way better! His pecs flex!"

“We’ll… be staying behind,” Aqua says, meeting Terra’s bewildered eyes with a soft smile. “Do another final sweep before coming home.”

“Sounds good. Let us know if you find anything.”

“And have fun!” Xion says.

Her phone fades from the static picture of Roxas—a melancholy shot of him staring into the sunset in Twilight Town, sent to her by Naminé—to a picture of her, Terra, and Ventus that Kairi had taken of them laughing on Destiny Islands after Sora’s return. “You caught all of that?”

“Yeah. They seemed like they were having a good time.”

“They’re good wielders.”

“They have been since the start. I remember,” he starts to says, before trailing off.

He doesn’t talk much about what he remembers from his time under Xehanort—the rare times she and Ventus ask about it, he’ll say that everything’s mixed up in his head, or that he just doesn’t like to talk about those darker days. They’re impulses Aqua understands intimately; she doesn’t talk about her days in the Realm of Darkness to anyone, _ever_. She grabs his hand and strokes his knuckles with her thumb.

“I did bring snacks,” she says, a weak attempt to change the subject. “There should be fish in the river. We could set up camp here, just spend the night.”

He seems grateful for the transition, if the soft twitch of his lips is anything to go by. “You don’t want to go down into the city?” he asks. “Look at shops, go to a restaurant?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t really have a preference,” he says quietly.

“Maybe we see how we feel in the morning,” she says. “But for now…”

He laughs softly, squeezing their entwined hands. “Set up the tent.”

It doesn’t take long to set up their simple tent, a relic from their early days in the mountains of the Land of Departure. As children it had felt cavernous, a gateway into a whole other world: the shaking canvas in the wind quickly became the rumble of monsters to their imagination, the branches they’d picked up in the forest enough like Keyblades to make them forget they couldn’t summon weapons of their own quite yet. It’s had its share of abuse over the years: the tent’s more off-color patches than original canvas these days, but it stands well enough in a breeze. (And if she casts a few strengthening charms to make up for structural integrity, well, who’s going to call her out on it?)

She finishes erecting the tent and setting up a campfire just as Terra guts and skewers the last of two fish, cleaning his hands and shirt in the river. The sky has turned rose gold above them, the mountains casting purple shadows over them. He turns to her with the fish in his hands and spikes them next to the flames.

How far can she cast Silence without falling unconscious?

“You okay?” he asks, grabbing his shirt off his shoulders and twisting the excess water out.

“Stop that.”

There’s an impish turn of his lips when he asks, “Stop what?”

Roxas and Xion are the only ones who know they’re up here, and they’ve left Olympus.

“Doing what you’re doing.”

“What’m I doing?” He leaves his shirt laid down over the side of a fallen pillar, standing beside her.

_Making me want you_ , she almost says, but doesn’t. She doesn’t have to. There’s a warmth spreading up her belly all the way down to her toes. It’s the adrenaline, the romantic lighting, knowing they’re alone together, the way he’s watching her with a wary sort of excitement.

So she stands up and kisses him.

His mouth is soft on hers, quiet in its insistence. Her hands find his hair and thread through—he’s been growing it out, she can curl whole gray-peppered locks between her fingers and it feels _nice._ A sign of the changing times. His mouth swerves from the corner of her mouth to her ear, teeth playfully teasing the skin there.

“Tent—”

“Have to stay here and watch the fish,” he murmurs, his lips right at her ear. She shudders.

“Screw the fish.”

“Little busy right now.”

She laughs dryly, the sound morphing into a delighted sigh as he takes her earlobe in his teeth and skirts the tip of his tongue over it. Aqua whines, “You’re not playing fair.”

“What,” he says, and pulls away with a hungry gleam in his eyes, “are you gonna do about it?”

She loosens the belt on his hakama with a pointed grin and leads him down to pin him on the ground. Their hands are everywhere, undoing his buckles and her—

“Why do you wear so many belts?”

“For support. I hate it,” she hisses, tugging off her shirt. One of Terra’s shaking hands reaches behind her to undo her bra and she swears his eyes widen as her breasts fall. She sighs in delight as the ache disappears from her shoulders, as one of Terra’s rough hands cups her side. “Need to find a new one.”

“Not now,” he says, bending up to kiss in the hollow between her breasts. Aqua shivers above him, one hand climbing up to his hair to hold him close. The other dips beneath the lip of his belt, skirting over curls of hair. He moans between her and the sound vibrates in her bones, like he’s singing Thundaga right into the core of her. She rolls her hips involuntarily and immediately feels a hard warmth against her thigh, and laughs.

Her fingers press against his hip bone as she tugs his pants down. He doesn’t let her look down to watch him free himself, somehow wiggling up off the ground as he bends up to kiss her full on the mouth. There’s a new salt on his lips from where he’d kissed under her breasts, and she only has time to process that before his tongue is skirting over her bottom lip. She slides her tongue over his and follows him down, turns to them to their sides.

Somehow he ends up on top of her, his heavy weight pressing her into the ground, his kisses rougher and his hands cradling her face, trailing down her neck—

And somehow she’s not on the grass anymore but solid stone.

One hand ghosts down her arms to grip her wrist, thumb pressing hard into the soft skin—

Somehow they’re not in Olympus anymore.

It’s a heavy pressing, insistent, and as one hand threads their fingers together the other comes to wrap fingers around her windpipe. She looks up and taps his shoulder and he turns to her and in the dusking light his eyes look gold.

She goes rigid. Scrunches her eyes up tight, flexing her hand just in case, _just in case._ The weight’s still there—it’s only been two seconds, it’s been one second too many—and with just a whisper she throws a Barrier up.

The weight’s gone immediately. She only has three seconds of perfection, she knows, too many times to count and practice in the Realm of Darkness. Three seconds to catch her breath and assess the situation: no sizzling attacks striking the ground, no ancient Keyblade tearing new scars into her body. Just the wind and the grass on her bare skin. When the purple-hued light finally fades she looks up to see Terra struggling to get up from the ground, green light flashing along his arms.

She can breathe, for a bit. Until she catches the horrified look on his face.

“What did I… are you okay?”

“I didn’t,” Aqua starts, looking down at his open hand. “I thought...”

“Thought what?” he asks, leaning forward. “Aqua—”

She shakes her head vigorously, curling into herself.

He takes a deep breath and rips his shirt from the pillar. “There was a hollow down the trail closer to town.” He puts his pants on, tugging the belts. “I’m going to go check it out, okay?”

She whimpers.

“I’ll be back,” he says.

She doesn’t follow him this time, either. Instead Aqua leaves the fish to burn themselves to nothing, watches them fall to cinders against the ring of stones. She isn’t hungry anymore. She's back in the darkness with a campfire, picking at scabs on her knees until they bleed and she has to Cure them. She's good at cleaning those.

She's lost any ability to track time with her body. Her phone is in her pocket; she could check the time. She doesn't, but it's a possibility. One she doesn't take. It could be hours or seconds between him leaving and his telltale footsteps against the grass. In the firelight she can see the sweat pouring down his face and a lost, lonely look in his eyes. She stands immediately. “Terra, I'm... I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened.”

“It's... okay,” he says. There's no energy in his voice, and she knows it's not from working himself into exhaustion. “I understand.”

“It's late," she says, and reaches for his hand. “We should get to—”

But the second she reaches forward, he's pinned his hands behind his back.

“Terra,” she says softly, “you won't... you won't hurt me.”

He shakes his head again and turns his back to her.

One wrong touch, one wrong word could make him leave again. Does she try to take his hand? Do they pretend this never happened? Does she walk and pray to the gods of this world that he follows?

It turns out she doesn't need prayers, because Terra follows her into the tent. He zips it silently, decisively, and she's about to think that everything's fine before he pulls his sleeping bag to the other side of the tent. He gives her a soft goodnight and that's it, he's zipping himself up into isolation. She settles into her own bag, very away of the body curled three feet away from her. It becomes clear, after an hour of tossing and turning and trying not to cry, that she’s gotten too used to having him wrapped inside her embrace, his back against her chest. Years ago, when they’d been younger, he’d held her through a thunderstorm that had snuck up on them. They still haven’t talked about it.

When morning comes there's a text on her phone.

 

**Terra**

im sorry

im safe

i need space

 

She doesn't stop crying throughout the flight home.

+

Here’s what Terra never tells Aqua or Ventus: he has nightmares of everything he’s done.

They don’t always make sense and they don’t come every night, but he wakes up after each and every one with a heavy weight on his chest and clammy hands. He’s only woken up Aqua twice; she’d held him through the worst one, murmuring nothings to replace the screams of children in his ears and kissing away the cool kiss of metal bars in his palms. On the second he’d managed to make it to the bathroom before throwing up violently into the toilet, and had been inconsolable for the rest of the day.

He dreams of Braig marking Isa with the Recusant’s Sigil, and dust blowing over the Keyblade Graveyard. He dreams of the fight in Radiant Garden— _both_ fights, the one where they’re still friends and the other where he comes close to impaling her with a stranger’s Keyblade.

But for the past week, he’s dreamed of the fear in Aqua’s eyes when he’d pinned her to the ground. When he’d been _loving_ her, he’d thought. It had been a mistake, and that had been fine, he’d understood that, but there are times when he dreams that his hands aren’t _his_ and how do they know Xehanort is gone from him, truly? When he fights he can still feel traces of him, unwittingly slipping into foreign battle stances that he wears effortlessly. He hasn’t felt like himself since Master Xehanort fell.

If he slips up? It can’t be with Aqua. So he’d left.

He’s still not sure why he chose Twilight Town of all places to run away to—probably because he has no memories of Aqua here. Isa, for all their complicated history, is a familiar face, one that doesn’t need the dark thoughts running through his head explained. He’d offered Terra a place on his couch and a few take-out menus and left him alone, for the most part, and it’s just what Terra had needed.

“It’s likely I’ll need to work late,” Isa tells him on the sixth afternoon, running a comb through his long hair. They’d had a discussion that morning about him cutting it, for a fresh new start. “You’ll be alright while I’m gone?”

Terra nods.

Isa pauses at the front door before turning to him. “Lea may stop by to pick something up. I wanted to warn you. He has a habit of… well, you know what Lea’s like.”

He has weird memories of the two of them staring up at a false idol in The World That Never Was. They’d never spoken much to each other about unofficial things. Just stayed in each other’s company. He wonders if Isa actively remembers, or if he’s managed to repress those memories. He’s too afraid to ask, not sure what answer he’d be more disappointed by.

The first few hour passes normally, in silence with one of Isa’s books. His phone keeps dinging, and after the fourth Terra finally sighs and pulls it out. Naminé had sent him pictures she’d drawn of the skies in Destiny Islands, a selfie with Kairi and Riku. She looks happy. He could say as much to her. He doesn’t.

He hasn’t even read Aqua’s messages. He’s been too afraid to. His finger hovers just above it, the way it’s done a thousand times since he’d left her in Olympus. And then there’s a knock on the door.

Isa’s going to be late. Lea has his own key. As far as Terra’s been made aware, Isa doesn’t have other friends yet.

Another knock on the door. Another. Another another another another—

Terra sighs and gets off the couch for the first time in six hours, then opens the door. He doesn’t even look when he says, “You have a Keyblade, you could’ve unlocked—”

A body crashes into him, blond hair flying. Roxas doesn’t hug anyone but Xion like this. “Could’ve unlocked the door from the couch if you wanted,” Ven mumbles.

Terra just stands there, shock stealing the strength from his limbs. “How did you—why—”

“I had to find out from _Roxas_ that you were staying here because you weren’t answering our texts.” Ven releases him from the hug and makes his way inside, his cheeks red. In the last three months he’s grown two inches; he’s almost taller than Aqua now. It’s unsettling. “You’re okay?”

“Okay’s a stretch,” Terra says weakly.

Ven sighs and flops down onto the couch. “Okay’s a start.”

Terra doesn’t join him on the couch, instead sinking into the plush chair on the other side of the room. Ven has his phone out and is typing furiously into it—Terra recognizes the woosh of a sent text and sighs. “Aqua?”

Ven doesn’t even try to lie. “She’s been… worried. We both have been.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking away to the door.

Ven’s quiet for a bit, drumming his fingers on his knees. “Okay. When was the last time you got out of this place?” Ven asks, bouncing out of the couch.

Terra blinks. “Few days ago,” he says.

Ven shakes his head and extends a hand to him. “Show me this Sunset Hill place?”

“Didn’t you just get here—”

“Walking’ll do you good,” Ven says, wiggling his eyebrows. “C’mon, I want to try some of this sea-salt ice cream everyone goes crazy over.”

“Ven, I don’t—”

“You’re coming with me whether you like it or not!” Ven says, putting his hands on his hips.

Terra stares at him blankly, mouth dropping into a small ‘o’. “When’d you start talking like that?”

“Since Lea took me to some movie.” He’s starting to frown like Aqua. “Sentiment still stands.”

He’s not in the mood to argue with that.

It’s autumn in Twilight Town and there’s an unmistakable chill to the air; it’s perfect weather to walk down to Sunset Hill. It’s a perfect spot for date nights, Isa had told him, “not that he’d know from experience.” And Terra can see why: streetlights line the path up the hill, there are plenty of park benches for picnics, and the view on top… the very town seems to stretch itself out before him, tumbling straight into the water.

There’s an old man selling ice cream at the edge. Ven turns to him. “If they have a dark chocolate, would you want one?”

“Sure,” he says, and takes one of the benches. Ven sets his phone down on the other side and rushes over to the ice cream man, already making wild gestures and smiling wide. He’s always been like that, able to forge connections and sneak into people’s hearts like it’s nothing. Terra laughs.

Ven’s phone buzzes. Terra blinks, then fishes out his. Nothing from a group text. He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or not.

His finger hovers over the unread string of Aqua’s messages. Terra glances up; Ven’s still talking to the ice cream man. He swallows hard, looks back over the sprawling town beneath him, and taps.

 

**Aqua**

I didn’t mean to freeze

 

**Aqua**

I’m sorry

 

**Aqua**

You don’t have to forgive me if you don’t want to

But

Please come home Terra

 

A message from three days ago.

 

**Aqua**

Just tell me you’re alright

Please

 

And one new message from this morning.

 

**Aqua**

Just say something

 

His heart falls. His thumbs hover over the keyboard, shaking. Ven’s talking to the person in line behind him, a man and his daughter.

 

**Terra**

im sorry

 

He gets a response back in seconds.

 

**Aqua**

You’re okay?

 

He hesitates before answering, cycling through a few answers.

 

**Terra**

not in danger

vens with me

getting ice cream

id send a pic but i still dont know how to work the camera

 

It’s hard to tell the time in Twilight Town; the sun doesn’t rise and set, just turns different shades of purple and red and gold. The clouds are covering up most of the sun, darkening the shadows. He keeps looking out for Heartless spawning unexpectedly, even though Twilight Town’s been peaceful and kept clear thanks to three resident Keyblade wielders.

His phone beeps again.

 

**Aqua**

Oh

 

“One ice cream, ready to go!” Ven chirps; Terra nearly drops his phone in surprise. His own sea-salt bar already has a huge chunk out of it. Terra nibbles at his, stealing glances down at his phone. Ven notices. “Did you text her?”

There’s enough bite to the chocolate to temper the sweet; it’s a good treat for the night. Terra nods. “Just little stuff that doesn’t matter.”

“That’s the best part,” Ven says, pocketing his own Gummiphone. “When you just talk about whatever, you know?”

Terra lowers his ice cream from his mouth, leaning his head back with a sigh. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Ven takes a thoughtful bite of his ice cream, swallowing hard. “Do you want to keep being with her?”

“I have to keep her safe—keep you _all_ safe—”

“Do you want,” Ven repeats, “to be with her?”

He wants peaceful nights. Wants their quiet mornings where he brews coffee and makes toast and eggs while she sets the table and catches up on communications from the night before. Wants the sparring sessions on the grounds where they’re slowly learning how to fight without fearing for their minds and grasping for control. Wants her in his arms as the snow falls. Maybe one day, far into the future, silver rings and oaths.

“Yeah,” he says finally, wiping his eyes.

“You have to tell her that,” Ven says, and opens his arms wide.

Terra matches the stance and Ven hugs him. They grip each other tightly before—

“Wait, Terra, your ice cream!”

They part immediately and look down to see wide stains of chocolate on both their jackets. Terra’s the first to crack, dropping the remnants of the stick onto the grass at their feet. “It looks better than it tastes.”

“You owe me fifty munny, Terra!”

“Rain check,” he says, ruffling Ven’s hair.

Ven pouts, thwacking his hand away. “Make up with Aqua and we’re even.”

Terra nods firmly.

Ven stays the night in Twilight Town, claiming he has plans with Roxas and Xion to catch a movie in the square. Terra goes home alone, touching down on a Land of Departure in total darkness. The moon is only a pale sliver of light in the sky, overtaken by the shine of the stars. Atlantica, he thinks, is celebrating something significant tonight.

He has a plan and everything: surprise Aqua with breakfast made of her favorite pepper eggs and bacon and fruit from the gardens and coffee in her favorite mug, with sugar. He’s counting the steps in his head, planning the dance he needs to perform, when he walks into the kitchen. But someone’s already there.

“Mixing bowls, chocolate powder, butter, baking soda, flour… _nuts_.”

He doesn’t know why he taps the door behind him. Stormfall flashes into Aqua’s hands as she whips around, pointing the tip straight at his throat. He puts his hands up in immediate surrender, watching as recognition floods her face.

She doesn’t drop Stormfall immediately. “I didn’t t-think you were coming home tonight.”

He’s not sure what’s worse; the wariness in her eyes, or the dark shadows underneath them. “I’m sorry,” he says.

She nods, dismissing the Keyblade. And then she turns her back to him.

He blinks, watching her measure out cups of flour and sugar. He’s about to turn away before she sets a carton of eggs on the counter beside her, turning to look pointedly at him.

Baking is a ritual she shares with no one else; it’s her way of cooling down, the way whittling is his and reading is Ven’s. He moves to the other counter warily, one eye on Aqua. She moves the book to the corner, where they can both read from it, and gets to work. He does the same.

They move wordlessly, relying on grunts and gestures and pointed jabs to the recipe book. Brownies and chocolate tarts, all made from scratch—she’s upset, but not wanting to kill anyone. Anger like that is saved for ganache cakes and chocolate bread, things she can pound and fold and break her back in.

“What’s on your shirt?” she asks, after he’s handed her a mix of milk and eggs.

He looks down. “Uh. Chocolate ice cream.”

“Oh.” She blinks and smashes pecans in a plastic bag with a roller. He doesn’t dare to interrupt, just starts mixing wet and dry ingredients together.

They place both dishes in the oven to bake, and in a well-practiced movement Aqua sets a timer with a sigh and turns to him with her arms crossed.

He picks up a dirty pan and moves to the sink. Makes eye contact with her as he runs the water and soap. She nods and sits at the table.

The water is warm in his hands, feels good after vigorous stirring on top of a flight through the Lanes Between. The scrub of the brush on glass is the only sound in the room, and he almost misses it when he places the last dish in the drying rack. He lingers, then turns to her. “I—“

“We can't keep doing this.”

Terra takes a step toward, hands clammy. “As in...?”

“Avoiding each other,” she clarifies, . “Not talking. Just…” He knows what the crease in her brow means: she’s frustrated, looking for the perfect words to say.

“Doing what got us into this in the first place?”

She looks up, the crease deepening. “Define _t_ _his._ ”

“Us fighting, every time. Before,” he says softly. “And now.”

Aqua nods. Just a slight tilt of her chin is enough to guide him to the chair beside her. The chair squeals as he moves it back, settling down with a sigh. He keeps his hands in his lap.

“I keep thinking things are fine,” he whispers. “I have dreams but I wake up and… the world isn’t ending. Most of the time I feel like myself.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t want to hurt you. I always worry I'm going to.”

“You wouldn’t,” she says quietly. He turns to her. She isn’t looking at him, fiddling with her hands on the oak table. “Not intentionally. I know that.”

He feels the _but_.

“I got scared. Just for a moment. And then I didn’t know what to say, and you were with me but you _weren’t_ , and... then you were _gone_ —”

“You couldn’t have said anything.” He lifts one hand to rest on the table, just inches from hers. “I was afraid. I… That’s all it was.”

“Me too,” she says again. 

There’s a knot in his belly. “You still... want this, right?”

“Of course I do,” she says quickly, choking something back between her teeth. Another but? “I don’t want you to leave. I want you here.” She swallows hard. “You can, I can't stop you. But I want you here. For the nightmares and the cookies and the bad days I can't get out of bed and the sunrises, all of it. You have to trust me, Terra, you… can’t protect me from everything.”

“But you and Ven... if I can't protect you—”

Her hand is still flour-stained when she puts it on his. Decisive. Room for escaping, if he wants to. They used to hold hands as kids; they’d stopped after textbooks and talk of the Mark of Mastery and changing bodies took up more thoughts than butterflies and fears of thunderstorms.

“You don’t protect me from yourself. If that's what you're wondering.”

He nods shakily, keeping the tears in his eyes from sheer force of will. “But you can't be afraid to tell me what’s happening. I thought you were afraid of me.”

One horrible moment passes where he worries he's said the wrong thing. She can't keep one tear from falling, and wipes it away vigorously. “Would you have stayed?” she asks, her voice breaking at the edges.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “But… I can’t help if I don’t know what’s happening.”

Aqua nods. “That's fair.” She sighs. “That's... okay.”

“Okay.” He turns back to the oven, and the little timer ticking beside it. “How long do you think we have to wait?”

“Don’t know. Need to let them cool once they’re done too. I know you’ve had a long journey, so if you want to leave…”

He pins her pinky down with his. “If you still want... I’m not going anywhere.”

A tear rolls down her cheek. Aqua doesn’t bother to wipe it away. “Good.”

+

She’s just about to summon her glider to go back home when she feels her Gummiphone buzz at her hip.

_Terra sent a photo!_

It’s Ven sprawled out on the couch, Chirithy tucked into the bend of his hip. She laughs, zooming in on the little bit of drool escaping the cat’s mouth.

 

**Terra**

finally figured it out

 

**Aqua**

He’s beautiful

Glad to see he’s sleeping

 

**Terra**

i captured his true essence

 

She used to worry that he'd never go to sleep again, after years of sitting in a chair (one she'd put him in, for his own safety, and look how well that had turned out). Time with Chirithy seemed to be helping him; the other night he'd gotten almost six hours of uninterrupted sleep. They'd celebrated with ice cream.

 

**Aqua**

You’re silly

 

**Terra**

i try

hows mission

 

**Aqua**

Just finishing up

Won’t be home for dinner though

 

Another image comes in: half the brownie pan is gone, and the other is more crumb than the easy-to-handle bricks she’d cut.

 

**Terra**

hurry up before ven eats the rest

 

**Aqua**

You better save me some

 

**Terra**

:)

**Aqua**

I mean it!!

 

**Terra**

:))

“You dork,” she sighs, but there’s a smile on her face as she pockets her phone and slams a fist into her pauldron. Her armor settles on her body in a flash of light, the metal kissing her skin and weighing her shoulders down. She’ll need to adjust it soon—years fighting for her life in the Realm of Darkness have broadened her shoulders and strengthened her arms and thighs. It hurts to turn, to even lift her arm to throw Stormfall into glider mode.

It’s a quick journey back home: full thrusters, no stops to admire the worlds turning on their axis. Night has long since fallen on the Land of Departure, the lamps bright and golden as they guide her to the courtyard. She dismisses her Keyblade and her armor with a relieved sigh and climbs the steps into the main hall, straight to the shower. The warm water undoes the knots in her muscles, and she savors it.

She leaves the shower after the water runs cold, wrapping herself up in her robe. She looks in the medicine cabinet for her toothpaste and stumbles on a printed photo. It’s her and Terra resting beside an ancient, twisting tree, the branches tumbling into the shapes of animals. They’re laughing, heads thrown back in delight. Ven had told them a joke as he’d taken the shot, _like a real ranger in the open wilderness!_ , and had demanded they find somewhere to print it as a keepsake. One hand comes up to hover above Terra’s laughing face, the warmth in his eyes as he regards her photographed reflection.

She doesn’t even towel dry her hair before leaving the bathroom.

Terra’s bedroom door is open, spilling golden light into the hallway. It takes her a while to summon the courage to rap her knuckles against the door frame, and when she finally does it’s with shaking hands.

Terra looks up from his book at the sound and _oh_ , there’s the smile she’d been missing. “I didn’t think you’d be home until later. How was the...”

He trails off as she shrugs her shoulders out of her bathrobe; the book falls into his lap with a dull thud. “Do you… do you want to try again?” she asks.

“Aqua—”

“Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just… I missed you?” She’s rambling and she can’t stop herself, just watch her fingers twitch nervously in her palms. “I want to—I don’t know, have a chance to do that night in Olympus over? The last part. Because the first—”

“Aqua,” he says, suddenly three feet in front of her. The book’s back on his bedside table. She doesn’t know why she’s paying attention to that, and not at his blue eyes focused on her exposed collarbone. “Are you sure?”

She nods.

He nods.

“Silence,” she whispers, and sound flees the room right as they collide.

Their lips still click as they come together, come apart. Her fingers still stutter against his skin. Blood still pounds in her skull as she tugs her bathrobe and his pajama pants off, and the fabric still whispers as they toss everything to the ground. They’re left with scars on their bodies, ones they know and ones they’re still learning. His hand hovers over the huge knot over her belly, and her fingers pause over the forever-red mark over his chest. They can’t go back, ever. But. She kisses the scar, and shivers as his shaking fingers trace the edges, and that’s enough to make her fall all over again.

They aren’t in Olympus and they aren’t in Radiant Garden; they’re here in their bed, with moonlight rippling through the sheer curtains and the nightlight throwing amber stars on the walls, with Aqua straddling him and rolling her hips against his abdomen. Her mouth is dry with want and even if she could speak, make any sound at all, she’s not sure it would convey everything she wants to say.

He looks up at her with his mouth on her breast, rolling her nipple gently between his teeth, and she says it. Terra doesn’t hear her.

There are worlds of difference between knowing and saying it out loud, in front of him. So she whispers the words into the hollow of his throat, presses them into his collarbone and chest; she Morse-codes them as she tugs and squeezes his dick to hardness, she sobs them as his fingers find her clit and rub. Heat shoots up get belly and she starts shaking around him, leaning her forehead against his for support. She rides his hand in fits and starts, angling around him and lifting her hips. One squeeze into his shoulder means good, two means faster, shaking her head means no—she doesn’t ever have to shake her head no—

It’s only because of the spell that she comes quietly in his hands, shuddering around him. There’s a moment when she sees stars beyond the walls, beyond life as she knows it, and then it fades and she’s in her own body again. He lifts one hand to touch her, her cheek she thinks, but grabs them immediately to pop them in her mouth. The slick salt of it tastes strange, but that pales in comparison to the way his pupils blow out immediately. She lowers her hand to kiss him, her wetness on his lips and then on his, and this close she can feel his groan rumbling in his throat and her own hum of delight ringing in the hollow of his chest. Something in the room breaks, something like tension. He stares up at her like he’s watching a meteor flash across the sky, like this is something to be savored.

And she says it, without thinking, “I love you,” she says, except this time there’s sound.

It stills them. Terra’s eyes go wide and he stops breathing as he looks at her, bracing her hip with his other hand. The other is held loosely in hers. “I…”

“Love you,” she repeats. And now that she’s already said it, had some practice, she can’t stop. “Love you. Love _you_ ,” she repeats, feeling the strength slowly return to her legs. She flips them on the bed so they’re reversed, and now Terra’s standing over her and looking like he doesn’t know how this happened.

She clears her throat and traces the edges of a long scar on his bicep, the one he’d given himself in an unfortunate training accident involving a training dummy shaped like the mean old baker down the street. “You don’t need to say it back—”

“I love you,” he says, as sure as he’s ever said anything before. “With everything I have. Everything I am and want to be.”

She guides him between her legs and inside her, one hand at the base of his cock and the other curled into his long. “I like it long,” she says, almost breathless. “I don’t think I’ve told you that.”

“Yeah?”

“You can borrow my old hair ties. You still like pink?”

Terra enters her in tiny thrusts, laughing between kisses at her pulse point. Even with the heat of him threatening to burn her inside out she crosses her ankles at the small of his back to take him in even deeper, hissing in delight as he bites along her jawline.

“Okay?” he whispers.

She nods furiously, fisting his hair to pull his mouth back to hers.

They’re still unpracticed; there are stops and starts to their rhythm, places where they have to stop and take a breath, moment where they shift themselves on the bed. When they get to the edge they’re holding hands, Aqua squeezing tight around him and Terra burying moans between her breasts. His mouth is hot and wet against her chest and she manages to cast another Silence right before the world starts going white at the edges.

Her greedy hands pull his face up, and she watches her nipple pop out of his his inquisitive mouth and just _that_ is enough to make her wet. His eyes almost closed but around his blown pupils there’s blue, dark and lovely, his dark hair falling forward along his shoulders. He’s hers. He’s always been hers, since that day in the tent in the thunderstorm.

She whispers it again into his mouth, and he stutters forward as the warmth takes over, and they cry into each other’s mouths as they come—Terra first, with hitching breaths and finishing thrusts, and Aqua soon after with a final long roll of her hips. He tries not to flops right on top of her and she laughs, loosening her hold on him. He pulls out of her slowly, the tip still hovering against her entrance as they turn to their sides.

This is her favorite part of all, the aftermath where he holds her together. Between shakes she wipes his matted bangs from his slick forehead, teasing strands between her fingers. Terra is panting hard before her as he brushes his thumb lazily against her cheek, eyelids fluttering shut.

_Love you_ , she mouths.

He tugs her cautiously to him, and she follows with a smile to tuck her head against his chest. She pulls him out of her with a gentle touch, idly running a finger along his shaft. A kiss to the forehead pulls her eyes back up to him.

He doesn’t mouth anything to her, still eerily silent as he rests his hand over her heart. _Love you_ , he mouths back.

Even when the spell breaks, they mouth it, sink them into soft kisses and feather touches. It’s enough to breathe together like this. It’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/awakingdormancy)! :)


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